


Starved

by hulucthulhu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Loneliness, Oral Sex, Squirting, There was only one bed (sort of), Touch-Starved, Vaginal Sex, friends with benefits (attempting)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulucthulhu/pseuds/hulucthulhu
Summary: Bruce is sure his window with Natasha has closed, but they're alone, and lonely. Maybe they can help each other though, after all, what else are friends for? Everyone needs a hug sometimes, right?
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Starved

**Author's Note:**

> I rewatched the entire MCU and decided I actually love Bruce and Natasha in AoU, so here we are.

It's a rare occurrence, being alone at the Avengers base. 

Bruce paced along the wall of windows in the common room overlooking the forest.

The stillness, the lack of life and commotion was bothering him in a way he didn't expect. For years he relegated himself to solitude, fearing the worst. 

But these past few years haven't been silent. They have been filled with Tony chatting away. Clint telling jokes. Steve laughing. Natasha’s quips and quotes. Thor's boisterous tales when he’s around. Wanda's music. Vision's fact telling.

Thor is off world. Tony and Steve are on a mission. Clint’s on his farm. Wanda and Vision are honeymooning. But at least Natasha is here. Not that they've talked much recently

He cringes when he remembers their conversation at Clint’s farm a few months ago. He was a little harsh. Especially considering he's found the right regiment of medications and medications to keep the Other Guy in check. He's just so used to being alone that it feels easier that way.

Except right now. Right now he feels like he's crawling out of his skin. He hasn't talked to anyone in a week and a half, a brief hello to Nat here and there. But the silence of the complex feels all consuming. Let alone the fact that it's been longer since he received a hug, or a pat on the back, or anything. None of them are touchy-feely people (except for Clint and Natasha towards each other, some unspoken platonic connection he can't begin to understand), but the life ebbing through the complex makes him feel embraced. 

Right now he just feels touch starved and lonely. 

"You're going to wear a path on the floor," a smooth voice says behind him. 

He looks up to see Natasha sitting precariously on the railing of the second floor that overlooks the common room. "Coming up with a new material would give Tony something to do," he says, shrugging, a small self conscious smile tinging his lips.

"Mmm, I do like when he's out of my hair," she smiles back gently. "You seem anxious. Well, more anxious than normal."

"I, uhhh, I'm not used to the quiet anymore, not having anyone around. It's making me feel cooped up."

She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Cooped up like you want to go for a jog, or cooped up in your own head?"

He'd tried going out the other day. The hustle and bustle of the complex is one thing, the public is another. It felt overwhelming. "The second one." He doesn't want to say he feels lonely, that sounds too sad. But he is lonely.

"Want to watch a movie?" 

He smiles for the first time in what feels like a million years, "That would be nice."

They settle on the couch with a movie they’ve seen 100 times. Bruce at one end, Natasha on the other, bowl of popcorn between them.

Bruce was acutely aware of the fluffy snack slowly dwindling as he avoided Natasha’s hand in the bowl, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Soon the popcorn was gone, and Natasha moved the bowl, sliding into the spot where it sat.

He smiled nervously at her, but didn’t make a move. “Relax, Banner, I’m not going to eat you,” she smiles back.

“I know, I just…” he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. 

“I just miss being close to people,” she says softly. “When Clint and Laura had the new baby a few months ago I stayed and helped for a while. Constant noise and little hugs and snuggles from all the kids. Here, there’s always something happening and someone to talk to. I’m just feeling a little…”

“Starved?” He says, less of a question, more of an acknowledgement. 

She hums in agreement

“I know the feeling,” he smiles sadly at her, as he tentatively reaches out for her hand. Her shoulders seem to relax from a tension he didn’t realize she was holding as he gently takes it in his. Her strong hands loosely intwine with his, as he strokes his thumb along her skin. She smiles back and they go back to their movie.

Except he can’t focus. He can only think about how soft her skin is. The heat from her body as she seems to slide closer on the couch, imperceptibly. How beautiful she looks in the dim glow of the room. He’s hyper aware of her hand in his. The movie ends without him noticing.

“Want to watch another one?” She says, giving his hand a small squeeze before pulling it out of his grasp. “I’m going to make some tea, want any?”

He declines, and goes to pick a movie while she makes her tea. His hand and side already feel cold without her there.

She returns with a steaming, fragrant mug, and instead of resuming her spot on the couch next to him, she stops in front of him.

“Can I ask you a favor?” she says, face carefully blank.

“Sure,” he says, nerves touching his voice. 

“My hair has been in this stupid french braid for like too long, feels like my scalp is detatching” she sighs. “I was just wondering if you could brush my hair. I mean, I can handle it on my own, but it sounds… nice.” She shrugs.

“Yeah, sure,” he smiles softly. It does sound nice. 

She sinks to the floor in front of him, sliding in between his legs with her back against the edge of the couch, sipping her tea as the movie starts. He slides forward and carefully undoes the hair tie securing the braid. He methodically removes errant bobby pins, setting them in a neat row on the side table. It’s not until he starts gently teasing apart the braid, that he realizes out intimate this feels. Her warm body nestled between his legs, his fingers in her soft hair, brushing across her neck. She tries to stifle a shiver as his fingers reach her scalp, but he notices it nonetheless. He gently runs his fingers along her head, loosening the plait’s pull and freeing the red waves of hair. She tries to suppress another shiver as he runs his nails gently over her scalp.

“Thank you,” she says between sips, “that feels good. I can feel my brain again.” 

“No problem,” his hands still working through her hair. “Brush?”

“Oh, I forgot one,” she says but makes no attempt to move. 

His finger comb through the waves of her hair, the scent of her lavender shampoo wafting up. Tension from her shoulders seems to melt as his hand brushes the skin of them, her tank top leaving them mostly bare. He’s only dimly aware of the movie playing, lost in the vibrant locks, and pale skin in front of him. He could stay here forever. He wants to be wrapped up in her. To reclaim the chance he missed. He’s sure that window has passed though. But, there’s an opportunity for a mutually beneficial arrangement, he thinks, pretending to ignore his heart fluttering in his chest when he thinks about it.

“Nat?”

“Hmm?”

“I have a favor to ask as well.”

“Oh?” 

He can sense the amusement in her voice as he continues to play gently with her hair. “Forgive me if this is too… forward? But, uhh,” he suddenly thinks this is a terrible idea. “Would you like to cuddle? Tonight?” he cringes, and he’s glad she can’t see his face. But he wishes he could see hers, not that she ever makes it easy to read.

She’s quiet for a moment before he hears her soft voice, “that sounds nice.” 

He smiles, hands finally stilling in her hair and back in his lap, as she leans against his leg for the rest of the movie.

It’s not until they’re both leaving to change for bed that he starts to feel nervous again. Natasha, in his bed? He’d never do anything to make her uncomfortable intentionally. But who wouldn’t be nervous with a beautiful assassin in their bed, especially one he shot down. What do you wear for a platonic cuddle session? Should he change his sheets really quick? Should he shower? Shower, shower sounds nice, relaxing, centering. He shoots her a text, letting her know he’ll need a few extra minutes. He also decides to change the sheets for good measure as the shower heats up.

The relief of the hot water on his skin is immediate. It soothes the nerves from his body as it washes over him. He thinks back to Natasha offering to join him in the shower at the farm—he should have said yes, he missed the window to be with her.. Guilt blushes his face as he thinks about rivulets of water running down her curves, skin pink in the hot water. A platonic cuddle session probably shouldn’t be proceeded by jerking off in the shower, but it’s hard to ignore his increasing hardness as imagines her wet body pressed against his. Getting off now might save him from an embarrassing and uncomfortable situation later, his brain helpfully supplies. That’s logic he can’t disagree with, even if it feels kind of wrong.

He tries to think of someone, something else as he takes his hard dick in his hand. But all he can think about is his lips on the curve of her neck. What her skin might taste like if he kissed his way down her body. What her orgasm might taste like on his tongue. As he thrusts into his hand he tries not to think about what her body would feel like under his hands while he thrusts into her. He comes, wondering how she sounds when she’s coming apart. He tries not to feel guilty and dirty as he rinses off once more.

He hurries into a pair of sleep pants and hears a knock as his worn shirt slides over his head. 

He opens the door and Natasha slips past him smoothly and quickly. He notices the robe she's wearing instantly.

"Did I miss the sleepover dress code memo?" He asks as he watches her inspect his room. The smooth light wood, the greys and blues of his furnishings. 

"Yes," she replies simply, peering at the framed drawings on his wall. "You're wearing too much."

"I, um, what?" He fidgets. Did he miss a signal? Did he assume? 

She smiles softly, "maybe I was being presumptuous, but I was thinking we might maximize the cuddles," her fingers work the sash on her robe. "I promise this isn't me trying to make this something," it slides down her shoulders. "But I was thinking a little more skin to skin?" She shrugs self consciously as the robe falls to the floor, revealing a simple bralette and underwear. "I can change, sorry if this is—"

"No, no, it's okay," he interrupts. "Just give me a second," he says as he dips into his walk-in closet, hastily stripping out of his shirt and pants and into a pair of his nice boxers. Tony had been appalled to find out he was a Fruit of the Loom kind of guy and gifted him an array of understated designer underwear. He still buys his underwear at Target, but he’s really thanking Tony right now.

The whole team has definitely seen him naked at this point, multiple times. But stepping out of the closet in just his boxers feels different this time. He rubs the back of his neck nervously, "this better?"

Natasha's expression seems to soften, "Perfect. Which side do you normally sleep on?"

"The left."

"Oooh," she coos. "I get the window view." She rolls the comforter down and slithers in. Bruce is struck but the scene. Her small body wrapped in the billowing charcoal blankets, a lightning bolt in a rain cloud. Snuggling in like she belongs there. "Come on in, the water is warm," she gives him that soft smile he's seen a lot of this evening. 

He crawls in next to her, feeling the unfamiliar dip in the mattress beside him. They're both still for a moment before she rolls towards him.

"May I?"

He isn't sure what she's asking, but he nods nonetheless. In an instant she's pressed up against his side, tucking herself under his arm as her head and arm rest across his chest. She sighs in contentment, and he feels her breath ghost across his skin. All he can feel is her warmth, pressed along his body, his arm wrapped around her. 

"I know I keep saying this, but this is nice," she admits quietly. 

"It is," he says, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her. Her fingers are gently exploring the skin of his torso, running through his chest hair, and then back down across his stomach. He could die right now and feel happy. "Thank you."

"For what?" 

"Trusting me, I guess. Sharing this with me.” 

"Of course I trust you. I'm glad we're doing this. You're so warm."

"Mmm. I've always run hot, even before the Other Guy." 

"That explains all your breezy linen button ups," she teases. 

"Hey! I like them, they're comfortable," he tries to sound incredulous, but it's hard when he's laughing. 

"I like them too, they look nice," she's laughing too. He can feel her body shake softly against his. He feels warm inside, not just where Natasha is pressed against him. "Russia always felt cold, even in the summer. And so many missions require unglamorous stake outs. I like being warm in a comfy bed. Wrapped around a nice warm guy is the icing on the cake."

"South America was always hot. India was cold at night, but of course it was better than the Tundra. They were all so different, it feels like a lifetime ago."

"I know the feeling. The life I lead pre-SHIELD feels like a bad dream. Do you miss your old life?"

"No," he says quickly. "No, I don't miss running or hiding. I like having this odd family. I like being able to have friends again. I like being in control."

"Same.” After a moment she adds, "I do miss dating though. A lot harder now after all my aliases have been blown and everyone knows what I look like."

"I bet," he tries not to sigh as he remembers his ruined shot with her. "I haven't dated in… a while."

"Have you gotten laid though?" 

"...No," he admits. "Before we figured out how to control it I was too afraid of hurting someone. Now I'm just… I thought it was easier to be alone."

"Do you still think that?" Her voice is a whisper against his skin. Her hand has come to a rest on his stomach, and he decides to be bold and hold it. His broad hand covering her delicate one.

"No." 

"Good, you deserve… happiness, intimacy," she pauses. "Not that you need a steady partner to get laid. At least that's still easy to come by for me. But I miss the connection of learning to love someone."

"And the cuddling?" He smiles, and he feels her cheek pull into a smile against his chest. 

"That, too." 

They're silent for a while as the night grows darker, breaths evening out as they grow heavy with sleep. 

"Let's go to sleep," she says groggy against him as she starts to detangle herself. She rolls to her side, and he rolls to press against her. "Big spoon means you actually have to hold me, Bruce," she chides, but there is no venom in it. He brings a wide hand to her hip. Give a small squeeze before sliding up around her. She's so soft. He can feel like muscle underneath her skin, covered by her gentle curves. "Mmm, perfect," she mumbles dreamily, sleep already overtaking her. He falls asleep soon after her, the smell of her lavender shampoo soothing him to sleep.

__________

He wakes up slowly, the world around him seeping into view. The light gently streaming through the curtains, the coziness of the bed, still wrapped around Natasha. He doesn’t want to move and wake her. He wants to spend every moment like this. He slept more soundly than he has in a long time with her here. Maybe this could be a regular thing.

Or maybe not, he realizes he’s woken up hard. Not that it’s uncommon or intentional. But pressed into the backside of a beautiful friend makes this awkward. Maybe he could sneak out of bed without waking her up. 

“Bruce?” She murmurs, voice rough from sleep. “You awake?”

He knows she’s just being polite, she’s a spy, of course she would have figured out he’s awake. Unlike him, she’s good at paying attention. Hopefully she hasn’t noticed his dick pressed against her, he thinks.

“Yeah,” he says, opting to nuzzle into her hair and neck. That definitely didn’t help the situation, he thinks, but he wants to be a little self indulgent before the moment ends.

“Your bed is comfortable,” she says. “I don’t want to get up.”

“We got nowhere to be,” he replies. 

She stretches her body, pressing into him further. His breath catches in his throat as she rubs against his erection and she stops suddenly.

“Bruce?” She says again, a little breathier. His face is still buried between her and the pillow, so he can’t see her face to tell if she’s angry, or disgusted, or something else.

“Sorry, sometimes I—” he starts to say before her body relaxes and presses against him again.

“It’s okay,” her voice still rough, making no attempt to move away. They’re still snuggled close, and he tries to will his dick to go down. It certainly doesn’t help when she presses her ass back against him. “Sometimes I wake up like that too,” she says, grinding gently back against him. This time he can’t help but chase the friction, involuntarily rolling his hips against her.

Friends fuck sometimes, right? He tries to reason with himself as she rocks back into him. It wouldn’t be weird, or groundbreaking. They’re both fully consenting adults. The weird history of flitting around a relationship might make things awkward, but they can work through that, right? It’s hard to follow his train of thought as he hears her breath catch and his heart rate rises.

She takes his hand and guides it to her chest and his fingers brush her hard nipple as she places it on her breast. “We can stop,” her breathy voice says into the soft morning light.

“Do you want to?” he asks as he gently squeezes her breast, thumb coming to run across her nipple.

“No,” she says with a pointed press of her ass against him. “I want this, I want—” her voice replaced by a gasp as he gently pinches her nipple through the thin fabric and kisses her shoulder. 

“You,” he finishes, rolling his hips into her, straining against his boxers as his length rubs against her. He moves his hand down her body, fingers leaving goosebumps in his wake. His hand rubs against her panties, feeling the heat radiating off of her. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” she keens softly.

He pushes himself up slightly and kisses down her shoulder, down her body as she rolls into the space as he scoots down the bed. He sees her face for the first time, flushed, lips parted, and eyes dark. He scrapes his teeth gently against a plush hip bone as he pulls gently at her panties. “May I?” He asks, wondering if his face looks similar in the moment. 

“God yes,” she says as she lifts her hips so he can slide the panties down, kissing her legs as he brings them down and over her feet, tossing them off the bed. He wants to take a moment to enjoy the view of her opening her legs to him. But he wants to taste her more, he thinks, hoping he’ll get another chance to take the sight in another time. 

He kisses up her thigh, her scent heady as he nears her. He wants to live here as his lips brush her mound. His tongue licks firmly up her slit, savoring the quiver it elicits from her. He starts off delicately, playing attention to the spots and pressures that make her breath catch. Building firmness and urgency on her clit until she's moaning above him. His thick finger slides into her, she's wet and hot and writhing as he pumps in with a second finger. 

Her hand grabs his hair and she presses into his mouth, body tight and quivering as her pleasure builds, so he doubles down his ministrations. Tongue circling and laving as he strokes crooked fingers inside her. He hears her swear and she arches off the bed and gushes in pleasure over his hand and chin as she comes for what feels like an hour. He gently strokes and licks her through the aftershocks til her hand loosens in his hair. 

She pulls him up, panting as she captures him in a kiss, tongue darting across his bottom lip to taste herself. Her hands are sliding down his body now, before throwing a leg over him and rolling them over to straddle him. She smiles wickedly before pulling away his boxers and guiding him into her. She's slick and hot and tight and he grabs her hips for any sense of purchase before she's rolling against him.

Her nails rake his chest as she rides his thick cock, her strong thighs carrying them both closer to the edge. He needs more, he needs all of her, he needs to feel her. He plants his feet and matches her thrusts and she keens at the new angle and force. 

The sight of her red hair mussed and pale skin flushed as her head rolls back, mouth open in pleasure is too much in combination with the ecstacy of her tight pussy. He comes so hard he thinks he might faint, thrusting so hard and gripping so tight he'll be surprised if she doesn't have bruises. He feels her clench tight and shiver as she gushes around him, her moan echoing off the walls as she collapses onto him.

His arms wrap around her, feeling dampness of sweat on her back as he holds her close. She shivers as his softening dick slips out of her. She places a kiss on his neck where her head lays, tickling his skin. 

He feels elated. He feels whole. And relaxed. And good, so good. He can't help but start giggling. He feels her smile against him as his laughter grows. She's giggling now too. A sight they must be, naked, sweaty, wrapped around each other and laughing. She places another kiss on his jaw as she sits up, smiling as she follows it with a kiss on his smiling lips. 

"Hey," she says smiling, soft voice blissed out and rough from her moans. 

"Hey," he smiles back. 

Maybe he didn't miss his chance after all.


End file.
